


Lingering Lights, Like Distant Stars

by FaeBae



Category: Good Omens
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Memory Alteration, Sad Ending, Tagging Suicide just in case, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), They/Them pronouns for Micheal (Good Omens), aziraphale forgets crowley, heaven made him forget, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-15 04:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20860373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeBae/pseuds/FaeBae
Summary: Alpha Centauri is a binary star system, but what happens to stars when they lose their orbiting neighbor?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing was inspired by a comic I saw on instagram by yourdeadprince (ee-void on tumblr), and I wanted to build further on it. Go check them out on insta/tumblr and give them some love, their art is fantastic!  
Enjoy y'all.

Aziraphale blinked, a fleeting thought passing through his mind like fog caught in a strong wind. What had he been thinking about? It must have been important if he was thinking about it, he tried to assure himself. 

“Aziraphale.” A sharp toned voice reprimanded him. Aziraphale blinked again and straightened up “Y-Yes?” he answered timidly. 

“I need you to pay attention.” Said Gabriel his serious expression somehow becoming more serious. “Oh, um yes, o-of course.” Aziraphale stuttered, embarrassed he had been daydreaming in front of his boss, why had he been daydreaming Aziraphale thought. Gabriel let out a sigh that conveyed that he wasn’t mad, just disappointed but also annoyed; Gabriel was good at sighing like that. 

“I’ll go over it again Aziraphale.” Gabriel said “And please pay attention this time.” Aziraphale clasped his hands behind back and gave Gabriel his full attention, though he couldn’t help the feeling that he shouldn’t care so much about paying attention, especially in regards to Gabriel.

“We have a special task for you to do for Heaven.” Gabriel said airily, gesturing loosely with one hand. “We need you to head downstairs and deliver some holy water, temporarily, to Beezelbub.” He made a face like the word ‘Beezelbub’ had left a bad taste in his mouth. “Then when they’re done with it, you are to return it to Heaven.” “Go d-downstairs?” Aziraphale said a tad shocked and pointed delicately downwards. “Yes Aziraphale.” said Gabriel a bit testily “Um, yes, a-alright, I’ll do my best,” Aziraphale stuttered nervously and Gabriel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Hurry up, we don’t have all day.” said Gabriel snapping his fingers at Aziraphale, who jumped at the sound and hurried to catch up to Gabriel’s longer stride as he walked away. 

Downstairs, Below, The Basement, Hell, whatever you wanted to call it, was dreadful, dark, and icky. Aziraphale swallowed nervously, and hesitated a moment before stepping off the elevator, and shuddered as he felt his shoes stick slightly to the floor. He made his way carefully down the dim hallway, it seemed to stretch on forever, and finally round a corner which led down a shorter hallway. The lights flicked on and off at random intervals, Aziraphale could make out a few figures standing around, he took in a breath and stuck his chin out to put on an air of ‘Holier than thou’ about himself; Technically he, and the water, were the holiest things in Hell at the moment. As Aziraphale approached, a handsome, if lanky demon with tied hands and sunglasses straightened his slouched posture quickly at his appearance and took a step towards him. “An-!” a guard next to him struck him across the back, the demon hissed out in pain and crumpled to the ground. Aziraphale stopped at the sudden act of violence and watched in mute horror as the same guard grabbed the fallen demon by his short fiery hair and yanked his head up to hiss in his ear “Do not speak unless spoken to, snake!” and threw his head back down. Aziraphale winced at the resounding crack when the demons head smacked into the concrete. After a second the two guards picked the prone demon up and set him on his feet. He swayed a moment, muttering curses and threats that made even Aziraphale’s ears turn red. “Enough” Beezelbub buzzed, pinning the demon with a glare. They turned and looked at Aziraphale “Have you brought it?” they intoned. “Yes.” Aziraphale answered holding up the full pitcher. Beezelbub gestured lazily to a bathtub “Get on with it then.” they sighed. “Right.” said Aziraphale and approached the bathtub cautiously, he noted that that was a viewing screen next to the tub and many curious faces of demons were peering in, but they shuffled a good bit back as Aziraphale began pour holy water into the tub.  
Aziraphale took stock of the room as he waited for the bathtub to fill up, He assumed the demon that had addressed him was Beezelbub, but was unsure who the other two who flanked them. There were the two guards and the demon between them, Something niggled at the back of Aziraphale’s mind when looked at him. He was shaking, pale, and looking right at Aziraphale - even though he was wearing sunglasses, Aziraphale was certain that the demon was making eye contact. Aziraphale cleared his throat and turned his gaze to watch the water filling up the bathtub.  
Some strange faint emotion burned in Aziraphale’s chest when he had looked at the demon. It was like he had met him before but couldn’t recall where, and Aziraphale would know if he had met this, or any demon, because he wouldn’t have hesitated in trying to strike them down.  
After an eternity the bathtub was full and Aziraphale stepped off to the side, setting the pitcher on a nearby stool, intending to leave the room and come back when they were finished. He had he had a suspicion that the red headed demon was going to be thrown into the bathtub, and he rather not stick around to watch.  
“Where are you going?” Aziraphale froze glancing back towards Beelzebub “Just going to wait outside for a bit, I’d rather not watch the,” Aziraphale paused, trying to school his features “proceedings.”  
Beezelbub let a wide smile overtake their face. “It would be best if you stayed.” they buzzed. “Don’t make him-!” the red haired demon had shouted, only to be cut off when a guard knocked him in the head. “Silence!” they barked. “Ngk.” replied the demon and stood unsteadily on his feet. Beezelbub rolled their eyes. “Obviously we don’t trust you,” they said, eyeing Aziraphale skeptically, “So we’ll be testing out that water first.” 

“Hastur.” Beezelbub waved a hand towards the tub. A dark eyed demon with what looked like a frog on his head walked past Beezelbub and the other unnamed demon to pick up a small fat dragon, which Aziraphale somehow missed in his assessment of the room. “Wait! What have I done?” it cried out as Hastur brought it towards the bathtub and dipped it in, “NOOO-” their scream cutting off into garbled nonsense as it dissolved, everyone's face grimaced at the horrible death. Beezelbub made a face at the still water, cleared their throat and announced “In agreeance with my colleagues,” Beezelbub stood up out of their seat “Duke Hastur,” they nodded to him “and Lord Dagon.” they nodded to the demon standing next to them “We sentence you, the demon Crowley, to death by holy water.” they yelled, the demons behind the viewscreen erupted in cheers and yelling all too pleased to watch a fellow demon die horribly. Beezelbub raised their arms asking for silence “Any last requests?” they asked the demon who Aziraphale now knew as Crowley. “Yes.” he replied “I wish to speak with the angel. Alone.” he glowered at Beelzebub as if to challenge them to say no, Hastur and Dagon looked at Beelzebub doubtfully “Sure, if you think it’ll change anything.” they said with a smirk on their face. “I’ll give you two five minutes.” Beelzebub said, waving everyone out of the room. They vanished the viewscreen out of existence, removed Crowley’s binds, and exited through the door that led into the hallway Aziraphale walked in from. 

“Angel... Aziraphale.” Crowley spoke, striding towards him with outstretched arms. Aziraphale took a step back at Crowley’s advance. Crowley stopped and dropped his arms down limply his face going from sadness to rage, to despair. “Sorry, but do I know you?” asked Aziraphale nervously. “Ye- um, no, ngh, it doesn’t matter.” Crowley said wretchedly looking everywhere but Aziraphale’s face. “Listen, Angel, I have to tell you something important, and I need you to remember it, no matter what.” “Um. O-ok?” Aziraphale murmured, unsure why Crowley was even talking to him, alone, in the first place, why he spoke to him like an old friend. 

Crowley removed his glasses, watching Aziraphale closely. Aziraphale was surprised to see two bright yellow snake eyes looking back at him, like they were gauging his reaction. “First, I want to thank you for, well, everything.” Crowley shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t understand.” said Aziraphale, looking confused. Was Crowley thanking him for bringing the means of his death? “Heh,” Crowley huffed, “I’m probably not making a lick of sense huh?” He chuckled again. “It doesn’t matter, what's done is done.” Crowley sighed. “But-” “Aziraphale,” Crowley interrupted “It doesn’t matter right now. Just listen to what I have to say.” Crowley stared unblinkingly at Aziraphale, who nodded once.

“When all this is said and done -” Crowley gestured towards the bathtub, “- and your back up there,” he pointed up, “Just… Move on.” he finished with a sad smile. “Enjoy your books, wine, and crepes. Live in the moment and enjoy everything to the fullest.”

“A-and if by some miracle or ineffable reason you remember, promise me you’ll move on.” said Crowley nearly spitting out the word ‘ineffable’. “W-what?” stuttered Aziraphale, wildly confused about what Crowley was going on about. “Promise me that you’ll let it lie, and continue on.” Crowley insisted stepping into Azirapahale’s space making him step back to keep the distance between them. “Don’t go looking for… Retribution.” Crowley said, looking uneasy, continuing his advance towards Aziraphale, “Just, keep going. Promise me you’ll do that.” Aziraphale kept backing away “I don’t understand.” he said “You don’t have to angel, just promise me.” said Crowley insistently “I-I don’t think... I don’t know if I can.” said Aziraphale uncertainly. 

Suddenly, Crowley crowded Aziraphale against the wall, who was becoming more uncomfortable by the second. “Promise me!” he said drawing out his sibilants “Promise!” he grabbed Aziraphale by the upper arms and shook him once. “You have to!” Aziraphale froze as his back hit the wall and sucked in a sharp breath, afraid of what the demon might do. Crowley froze the second he heard it. There was a pause as Crowley looked desperately at Aziraphale, his pupils a very thin black line surrounded by dark yellow. He leaned into Aziraphale’s space and gently put his head onto one of Aziraphale’s shoulders “You have to promise me,” he choked out. “please, angel.” “Please, Aziraphale.” he sobbed his name like a prayer.

Aziraphale, in a moment of empathy, or weakness, gently stroked the back of Crowley’s neck in a soothing motion. He wasn’t sure about what he was doing or promising for that matter, letting out a soft sigh he spoke. “I promise.” he whispered to Crowley “I promise.” Crowley let out a shuddering breath and squeezed Aziraphale’s arms once before straightening up. Several tears rolled down his cheeks as he met Aziraphale’s eyes. “Thank you.” he whispered back. Aziraphale could feel something in his chest breaking at Crowley’s distraught tear tracked face. He felt the urge to join him in crying, although he did not know why. 

“Angel...Aziraphale, I- uh, nmmgh, I need to tell you something else.” stuttered Crowley, tripping over his words. He wiped at the tears on his face, rubbing his shirt sleeve against his cheeks. “Nmmh. Seems stupid to tell you now, but… I lo-”  
“Alright, back to the main event.” Beelzebub interrupted, slamming open the door and snapping their fingers to bring back the viewscreen. They both jumped as the door connected with the wall Crowley glowered at Beelzebub, while backing away from Aziraphale, and slipping his dark sunglasses back on. “Keep good on that promise Aziraphale.” he said and turned to Beelzebub, Hastur, and Dagon. “Shall we?” Crowley said sarcastically, giving a mock bow. He sauntered over to the bathtub.Gone was the scared and upset demon that Aziraphale had been trying to soothe moments ago, and now standing in his place was a sauve and cool demon that seemed almost eager to meet his demise. “Goodbye angel, it was fun while it lasted.” said Crowley, facing the bathtub and pointedly not looking at Aziraphale. 

A scientist, an astrologist to be more accurate, watched in both amazement and fascinated horror as one of the orbiting stars of Alpha Centauri winked out of existence. Rubbing her eyes, she looked through the powerful telescope again in the hopes that what she had just witnessed was her imagination running rampant from lack of sleep and excessive amounts of caffeine. Writing a thesis on binary star systems required (more like demanded) massive sleep deprivation, excessive caffeine and nicotine, and if the occasion called for it, weed. Looking at the telescope a few more times and pinching herself each time, as well as looking over the computer that was fed information from the telescope, the astrologist named Margaret confirmed repeatedly that one of the stars was definitely gone. As if in a trance, Margaret went over to the underused landline. With shaking hands she picked up the receiver and made a phone call.

Aziraphale had followed the trial in mild horror. He knew the effects of holy water and what they could do those of an infernal nature. He had been surprised when the demon... Crawley, or was it Crowley? He couldn’t quite remember... The demon hadn’t screamed as he dissolved, unlike the small fat dragon looking fellow they threw in before him to test the waters as it were. He swore that Crowley tried to silently tell him something, but Aziraphale hadn’t been able to tell what it was. It was almost as if his mouth had formed a word that started with an ‘L’ before he was gone. There was also the conversation prior to the demon’s death. What was his name again? Aziraphale’s mind was fogging over the details of who it was that he had made a promise to. A promise to move on and continue a happy life. What an odd request for a demon to give to an angel, he mused.

As he returned the holy water back to heaven, he had the sudden impression that he’d collected water from this very fountain before. But that was impossible. He had never been in this room before today. Sighing, he poured the water back into the fountain, shivering as he thought about how there were technically dissolved demons in it. Gabriel and Michael assured him that not even the foulest demon could taint this holy water, as it had been blessed by God herself and thus was impervious to impurities. Leaving something so pure in Hell wasn’t a good idea, and so Aziraphale had also been tasked with returning it back to its proper place in Heaven. He gave the jug back to an all too smug Gabriel, who asked “Enjoy the show Aziraphale?” Aziraphale had only given a nervous smile and replied “Not my cup of tea, if I’m being honest.” Gabriel’s smile only got more smug at that. Aziraphale all but ran back to earth after that particular interaction with Gabriel, he let out a loud sigh of relief the moment he was back in his bookshop. Still feeling a bit shook up for his trip in the basement Aziraphale set about getting himself a nice glass of red wine from his exclusive stock he kept in the back of his shop. He poured two glasses, setting one of them on a side table next to the couch across from a large chair he made himself comfortable in. He was two sips into his own glass when he realized he had poured two glasses instead of one for himself, with a frown he stared at the second one sitting innocently on the side table. With a snap of his fingers he miracles the glass away and the wine back into the bottle, all while thinking to himself ‘Now why on earth did I do that?’. 

A few months passed and Aziraphale continued on, rarely leaving his book shop and deterring annoying customers who dared to try buying his books, and only left when given a task by Heaven or when he got peckish. He tried to keep to that promise he gave to that poor demon, who he had trouble recalling on a good day, and tried to enjoy everything to the fullest, but it felt hollow and like he was missing something important.

Aziraphale rubbed at his temples. Today was not a good day, he’d had over twenty people come in and try to buy his precious books. Twenty! His nerves were already worn thin by the odd things he found himself unconsciously doing over the last few months, and it seemed they were increasing in frequency. Just the other day he caught himself looking over his shoulder, asking “What do you think Cr-” before stopping in confusion. Why was he asking a question aloud and to whom was he trying to address it? And that was the bigger question he tried to desperately answer, whose name was he trying to say, it was either on the tip of his tongue or resting in the back of his throat, caught up with some unknown feeling. It was confusing and frustrating. Aziraphale tried for two weeks straight to force the name out, but as soon as he formed the first syllable with his mouth, it was like he had forgotten how words worked and it slipped from his grasp.  
Other odd things included the times he’d go to feed the ducks at St. James’ Park only to get lonely or upset at a peculiar lack of company, although he wasn’t expecting to meet anyone there. He’d been by himself for a long time, so he’d never truly experienced the feeling of being lonely; he found he rather didn’t like the feeling of it and left the park quickly to seek the comfort of his bookshop. He had also found himself looking for tasteful wines with the intentions of sharing it, and then had to think over why he’d be sharing it to begin with.  
Then there were the headaches, the god-awful headaches that came and lingered when he tried thinking back on old memories. Angels didn’t get headaches. Sure, they had human vessels, but they didn’t work how actual human bodies worked, thus making them immune to the odd aches and pains that seemed to inconveniently plague humanity on a daily basis. The first time he experienced the headaches, he had been thinking about a lovely little bakery in inner city London that had unfortunately closed down a few years ago. He’d been thinking about the wonderful marzipans they had made, then remembered that they had closed because someone had told him it had and not to waste the trip over there. As he tried to remember who had told him that, a sharp pain bloomed behind his eyes and he stopped trying to remember when he found he couldn’t miracle the pain away.  
The second time it happened, he had been thinking about the reign of terror and how he’d gotten locked up, when a pain so intense pierced his head it made him cry out. Shaking and falling to the floor he cried out for Gabriel, maybe he knew what was happening or he could help. Gabriel had, thankfully, come to Aziraphale’s aide but was unable to soothe his pain and explained in an impassive voice that this was the work of that wretched demon who had stopped the apocalypse and who had almost tempted Aziraphale from his holy duties. Aziraphale accepted the explanation and things went back to mostly normal, if one took out the occasional headache and the feeling that something was missing.

Today was no different. Aziraphale had already managed to think about something that triggered a, thankfully not too serious, headache. It left him grumpier than usual during the open hours of his bookshop. The people coming in to buy his books weren’t helping matters, but they offered a distraction from his own mind, which helped prevent nastier headaches from developing.  
The bell of the shop tinkled as another abhorrent customer made their way inside and began browsing the shelves with interest. Aziraphale sniffed and turned to ignore them until they got the hint and left.  
“Excuse me.”  
Aziraphale resisted the urge to groan aloud as a soft voice called to him. He turned to the customer with a strained smile. “Yes?”  
A young looking woman took in Aziraphale’s strained expression and averted her eyes.  
“Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had any books on astrology,” she said quickly, her voice quivering with nerves.  
Aziraphale softened, he hadn’t meant to upset her in that manner. He had merely hoped she’d get mad and leave in a huff, muttering about leaving a poor review on his establishment. He let some of the ice melt out of his tone.  
“I’m afraid not dear: Definitely nothing modern and scientifically accurate, even if I did happen to have anything on the subject.”  
“Modern would probably be best,” she muttered, then spoke up, “What with what’s been happening lately.”  
Aziraphale gave a her a blank look.  
“U-uh” she stuttered, “H-have you been keeping up with the news?” hoping her question would double as an answer.  
“Can’t say I have.” Aziraphale answered lamely. He was rather out of touch with the world, if he was being honest. He didn’t have much reason to leave his bookshop and he didn’t own a T.V. on top of that.  
“Oh!” said the girl, surprised. “Well, to put it simply, a star has just up and disappeared.”  
“A star?”  
“Like a star in the sky, not a celebrity.” She pointed a finger upwards. Aziraphale stared at her in open shock, his mouth forming a perfect O.  
“Crazy innit?” she continued excitedly. “No one knows how or why its gone, just…” she flicked both her hands open, “Poof, gone!”  
“Just like that?” Aziraphale asked, shock still coloring his expression.  
“Yeah.” Aziraphale was going to have to file a report on this, he tried not to grimace at the thought.  
“How long ago did this incident happen?” he questioned.  
“A few months ago, don’t remember the exact date. Sorry.” she replied. Aziraphale internally winced. Head office wouldn’t be too happy he failed to report something as big as a star disappearing the day it happened. He could almost hear Gabriel’s stern voice reprimanding him now.  
“What star was it that disappeared?”  
“Alpha Centauri.Or one of them. It’s a binary star system, they just look like one without a telescope.Don’t know if was Centauri A or Centauri B.  
Aziraphale had frozen at the mention of Alpha Centauri. A far away voice called out to him, “We can go off together, Alpha Centauri!”  
“Um. Are you ok?” The woman’s voice filtered in through the ringing in his head, she watched as Aziraphale had gone rather pale.  
“Yes. Tickety-Boo” His voice shook. “I need you to leave.”  
She looked at him in surprise. He made a half hearted motion towards the clock on the nearby wall.  
“Its past closing time.”  
“Oh! So sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you!’ she exclaimed, hurriedly making her way to the door. “Have a good day!” she shouted as she closed the door behind her.  
Aziraphale flipped the closed sign and locked the door with a wave of a shaking hand, and walked over to his desk to lean on for support.  
‘What the Hell was that?’ he thought, rubbing at his temples. His head throbbed as a ghostly image of an antique car speeding off from the bookshop flooded his mind.  
“What?” he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut. More images swirled about, each popping off with a familiar voice. The pain intensified, Aziraphale felt like his head might actually explode.  
“Ah!” he cried out as everything came rushing forward. 

He was standing on the wall of the eastern gate of Eden, watching Adam and Eve make their way across the dunes, “Didn’t you have a flaming sword?”  
He was watching Noah build his ark, “You can’t kill kids!”  
The son of god was crucified, “It’s Crowley now.”  
In Rome, having overheard a familiar voice, “What else am I going to be, an aardvark?”  
A foggy field wearing a full suit of armor, “I’m spreading foment.”  
Standing in the globe theater watching Hamlet, “Alright, that one’s on me.“  
St. James’s park, refusing to hand over a suicide pill, “Fraternizing!?”  
Standing in a bombed church, a feeling of love suffusing him, “Lift home, Angel?”  
Sitting in a Bentley, fearful of his feelings, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”  
In the back room of the bookshop, copious wine bottles around, “We’d be like godparents, seeing to his upbringing.”  
In a ex-hospital run by satanic nuns eleven years ago, getting shoved against a wall, “I’m a demon, I’m not nice!”  
At a bandstand desperately trying to hold onto his faith and belief in Heaven, “We’re on our side!”  
Standing outside his bookshop, his heart breaking, “We can go off together! Alpha Centauri!”  
Trying to hold his discorporated form in place, “Look! Souvenir!”  
At an American airbase wearing a different form, “Nice dress Aziraphale.” 

In hell. “Promise me!” 

“Goodbye angel, it was fun while it lasted.” 

“I love you Aziraphale.”

“CROWLEY!” Aziraphale shouted, flailing out to capture the ghost of Crowley’s image in his mind. His arms only grabbed air. Aziraphale looked at his empty hands, and looked up at the empty room. Tears poured from his eyes  
“Crowley.” he whimpered, “I’m- I’m so sorry, I should have… What have I done?”  
Aziraphale sobbed and curled in on himself. “I’m so sorry my dear. I couldn’t…” He sobbed again, as he sat there, his body trembling with his cries. His wings came forth from the ethereal plane to wrap around him, but they did little to comfort him as he wailed for the loss of his one and only friend, and for the loss of the only person he ever loved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to personally thank my Beta, Ghost on help me writing and editing this longer than necessary fanfic. You're the best Ghost, this wouldn't nearly be as good as is it without you!

Aziraphale didn’t move for several days as he cried his shattered heart out, grasping tightly to the memories he recovered. He felt like the world had ended - but it hadn’t, he and Crowley had stopped the apocalypse. They had stopped it for what? Only to be destroyed by their respective sides, literally in Crowley’s case.  
He laid on the floor watching the dust motes dance in the sunbeams coming through the window. He was exhausted and didn’t bother with breathing. ‘Why me?’ he thought.  
Aziraphale thought about what Crowley had said in his final moments the ‘I Love you Aziraphale.’ still ringing in his mind. He also remembered the promise he made to Crowley. There was no way Aziraphale could move on, nothing was worth doing if he didn’t have Crowley there every step of the way. He wasn’t even supposed to remember. Aziraphale had gotten off with memory loss and a slap on the wrist, while Crowley had been killed. 

Aziraphale felt anger bubbling up. How dare they take Crowley away from his heart and mind and leave him to suffer? Was this his punishment for denying the ‘Great Plan’? To Hell with the ‘Great Plan’ or the ‘Ineffable Plan’, whichever one it actually was, Aziraphale thought bitterly; to Hell with it all. If anyone should suffer it was those who thought themselves high and mighty because they thought they knew what God wanted and what she planned. 

He sat up.   
“Retribution.” He glared at the rug that concealed the chalk circle.  
He had promised Crowley. And then Crowley had needlessly died, his heart whispered to him. Someone had to pay.   
“Blood for blood,” he muttered to himself darkly, getting up and heading towards the door. Aziraphale would never be able to live on without Crowley, especially knowing those who were responsible for his death still lived. 

If there was one thing God got right in making Angels is that they were damn good at avenging.

“Looks like I won’t be keeping that promise, my dear boy,” said Aziraphale, looking back at his bookshop one last time. He shut the door, with a snap of his fingers locked it and walked away.

Aziraphale knew he couldn’t take on Hell and Heaven by himself, even if he was a principality.

Hell hadn’t been easy to get into. The elevator he had originally taken was conveniently out of service, and he doubted a repair demon was nearby. There was always the escalator he had seen Crowley take, but there was no guarantee it would let him in. He thought back to the chalk circle in his bookshop, and the awful sensation of being discorporated in holy light, maybe if he took the opposite steps he could summon himself into Hell. “It may be possible.” he mumbled to himself and set about finding some chalk and somewhere without prying eyes.

He only came out bruised, ashy, and missing a few feathers after taking on a duke, lord, and a thrice-damned bloody prince of Hell. Beelzebub put up a fight, but they were no match for an angel burning with righteous fury and a flaming sword lit by holy fire. 

The other denizens of hell had wisely stayed out of the way and the fight, whether it was from fear of being burned with holy light or from knowing well enough not to get in the way of an angel on the warpath. 

Aziraphale had, for lack of a better term, exploded into Hell in a burst of holy light, causing a few lesser demons to burn away in its brightness. Grabbing the nearest demon that had survived his light show, Aziraphale hissed in a voice echoed by thunder.   
“Summon the Duke Hastur, Lord Dagon, and Prince Beelzebub. If you would be so kind.”   
The demon struggled in his grip. “I don’t have to do jack shit, you fucking angel!”   
Aziraphale tensed at the word angel. No one was allowed to him that except . . . He tightened his grip and swung the demon into the wall, nearly buckling it with the force and pinned the demon to it with his wings, the feathers becoming the sharpest blades in the world for the moment. The demon shrieked in agony as Aziraphale let his holiness radiate into his wings, slowly burning the demon alive.   
“If you wish to continue your miserable existence, I suggest you summon whom I’ve requested “ Aziraphale whispered in a low dangerous voice, twisting the feathers in the demon and letting a tiny bit of his true self peek out of his vessel. The demon yowled in pain. 

The demon opened his mouth to tell the angel off with some nasty words, but something in the back of his small demon brain told him that would be unwise, especially if he wanted to survive this encounter.  
“O-of course.” He whimpered after a moment.   
“There’s a lad.” Aziraphale said with forced cheerfulness. A wicked smile made its way on his face.   
“Do let them know I have no grievance with Hell itself. I just wish to file a formal complaint with them, you understand?”  
The demon dropped to the floor with a grunt as Aziraphale unpinned him.   
“Up you get,” Aziraphale muttered, as he grabbed the demon’s arm and hoisted him to his feet. “Do be quick.” His voice brokered no argument and the demon scrambled off. 

It felt like an eternity before Beelzebub, Hastur, and Dagon showed up, all looking equals parts disgruntled and surprised at Aziraphale’s presence.   
“You said you need to file a formal complaint,” Beezelbub asked lazily. They looked disinterestedly at the walls, rather than at the angel.   
“Why, yes,” Aziraphale said in forced cheeriness. “But do you mind...” he said, a nasty grin worming its way onto his face, “If we have this discussion in private?”   
Aziraphale’s sword ignited with holy fire. All three jumped back at the loud ‘foosh’ the sword made and looked at Aziraphale shocked. “What is the meaning of this?” hissed Beelzebub, taking a fighting stance their palms upward with curled fingers. “This is for taking what was so dear to me away.” Aziraphale answered and surged forward to attack. 

After the ensuing fight Aziraphale had fled Hell. He had essentially stormed the place unprompted, and he was quite sure that someone was going to contact upstairs to ask what the fuck was going on, or to tell someone off. Either scenario had Heaven being informed of his actions and that he had remembered what was supposed to be forgotten. Or maybe Heaven would think he’d gone off his rocker and attacked some demons for the hell of it. He hoped for the latter. Once informed, Heaven would come knocking.

Aziraphale needed to recover before he could face Heaven. Dagon had managed to rip a few of his primary feathers out while he had been distracted by Hastur lobbing a ball of hellfire at him. Going back to the bookshop was a no-go, as they would definitely check there first. He couldn’t go to Tadfield either, he worried Adam might bring back his powers if he felt the place he loved so much was threatened; Aziraphale would be damned if he managed to re-jump the apocalypse. He racked his mind for a place where he could stay until he healed. Suddenly he knew exactly where to go, and with a flap of his wings he was gone.

Crowley’s flat was as he left it. Well furnished and tastefully decorated (to his tastes of course), with the exception of a fine layer of dust that Aziraphale disturbed as his wing settled from his flight.  
Despite having no one living in it for several months, Crowley’s things hadn’t been taken away, which Aziraphale was grateful for. He paused at the hall entry and stared at a familiar stone bird statue.  
“I wonder if that’s the same one,” he murmured with a fond smile. ‘It was so like Crowley to-‘ he frowned and forcefully stopped his train of thought, then muttered sourly. “Best not to linger.”  
He walked down the hallway to the living room. He had only been to Crowley’s flat a few times for after dinner drinks, having preferred the warm and cramped atmosphere of his backroom of the bookshop to the cold and too open rooms of Crowley’s flat.*

*Aziraphale also had much more comfortable furniture.

Stepping carefully around, Aziraphale let his eyes wander about the flat. In a room to the left of him he noticed dried leaves on the floor. ‘Odd,’ he thought, making his way into the room.   
In the light of the setting sun, Crowley’s plants looked terrible. Gone was their verdant green, replaced with small shriveled shells of themselves.   
“Oh you poor things.” whispered Aziraphale, reaching to carefully rub a finger across the plant nearest to him. It shivered in response.  
Aziraphale debated if using a miracle was safe, after a few moments he decided.   
“Oh, to Hell with it,” he finally murmured. “Enjoy your new home, I’m sure many people will appreciate your beauty.” He snapped his fingers. 

In an instant the Royal Botanic Gardens gained some of the greenest and most beautiful plants anyone had ever seen. They shook in delight anytime someone paid them a compliment. The gardeners were unsure how the plants had gotten there seeing as they didn’t exactly belong amongst the violets and peonies, but chose not to comment on it. They found the plants to be a delight as they had a physical reaction to being praised, any gardeners dream really. 

Aziraphale smiled to himself. Crowley wouldn’t be happy that his plants were receiving positive attention and affection right about now. He frowned, but Crowley wasn’t alive anymore to complain about it. He sniffed and turned to leave the room. He knew the bedroom was past the office, he had seen it once when Crowley had tried to tempt Aziraphale in taking a nap on his nice expensive and luxurious bed adorned with the best and highest thread count silk sheets money could buy. Aziraphale had smirked and joked about how he was badly going about trying to tempt him into his bed, and Crowley had let out a loud belly laugh at that. 

Aziraphale had never understood the appeal of sleep before he sank into Crowley’s bed. He inhaled deeply - he could smell the faint traces of Crowley. Aziraphale felt tears spring to his eyes. He grabbed a pillow and buried his face into it, his chest and eyes burning as he refused to cry. Breathing in deeply he tried to bury the memory of Crowley’s scent into his brain and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Aziraphale didn’t sleep for long. He knew he couldn’t stay here, it would only be a matter of time before Heaven found him now, but the nap had invigorated him. Popping his wings out he checked them over a few times, satisfied to find the missing feathers had grown back.   
“Time to face the music, I suppose,” he said to himself and flapped his wings. 

Getting into Heaven was much easier than Hell, The secretary that doubled as guard to the elevator was surprised to see him.   
“We were just about to send someone to get you,” she had blurted out, as Aziraphale walked up to her desk.   
“Well no need for that now.” he replied cheerily “Are they in?” He pointed to the door next to her.   
“Yes, I’ll ring you in,” she said, pressing a button on the computer in front of her.

Aziraphale stood, hands behind his back as he watched his bosses march in, their expressions carefully blank. Gabriel spoke first.   
“So, Aziraphale, we got some rather interesting news from below.” He raised his eyebrow. “Care to explain?” 

Aziraphale stood before Michael, Gabriel, Sandalphon, and Uriel with a passive face that masked the fury boiling his blood.   
“Of course,” he answered in such a calm tone it surprised even himself.

Quicker than lightning Aziraphale summoned his sword. It sparked like a bar of magnesium flaming a bright white, and swung down on Sandalphon, catching him on the shoulder, feeling the blade slow as it ripped through muscle and bone. Gritting his teeth, Aziraphale paused the momentum and forced the sword forward into Sandalphon, beyond his vessel’s mortal body to pierce his true form and grace. Sandalphon didn’t have time to scream as Aziraphale’s sword sliced his very essence and burned it away in righteous holy fire. Aziraphale pulled the sword up with a jerk effectively cutting a quarter of Sandalphon off. Golden ichor splattered across Aziraphale’s body as Sandalphon’s mortal vessel exploded, his true form shattering outwards with a deafening ring. 

The sword popped and sizzled as the ichor clinging to it burned off, turning the flame a dark red. With another swing Aziraphale lunged at Uriel, swiping at their neck. He managed to cut through most of it as Uriel had been a moment too slow in moving back, stunned by the death of Sandalphon, and they crumpled to the ground with a gurgling cry. Not wasting a second, Aziraphale rushed to Uriel’s prone form and drove his sword deep into their chest, his thoughts commanding the sword to burn everything away.   
Gabriel and Micheal stood shell-shocked as Aziraphale cut down Sandalphon and Uriel, both archangels, with brutal efficiency. Micheal summoned their great-sword with a flick of the wrist and surged forward, intending to strike Aziraphale before he could finish off Uriel, but Aziraphale knew the other archangels would move to strike while he was ‘distracted’ and darted away the moment he felt Micheal pull their great-sword forth. 

Aziraphale took a rolling dive and shot back up, his wings snapping out to stop his momentum, taking care to take a few more steps back to gain some distance between himself and the other two. Micheal’s great-sword let out a resounding clang as it struck the ground where Aziraphale stood moments before, nearly hitting Uriel’s crumpled form: Lightning arched off the great-sword and jumped around Micheal’s arms. Uriel’s body gave the same performance as Sandalphons’, but with more gusto, and exploded in a shower of ichor and with a low bell like tone that shattered all the windows in the room. Aziraphale flinched as some of the ichor landed on his face and wings.   
Micheal looked wide eyed at the mess that was once Uriel and Sandalphon. They slowly turned their gaze back to Aziraphale.

“Just what…” Micheal paused, as if they were unsure exactly what it was they were asking.   
“What have you done Aziraphale?!” Gabriel cried out, coming to stand next Micheal, his scythe out and at the ready. Aziraphale kept his battle stance and warily watched the two archangels.   
“What is the meaning of this?” Gabriel continued angrily, gesturing to the mess next to him. Aziraphale clenched his jaw and tried to think of a way he could take two very pissed off archangels head on.   
“Aziraphale!” Micheal shouted in a voice that demanded he explain or he’d be meeting the pointy end of their great-sword sooner rather than later. Gabriel took a step forward, his wings snapping out in a threatening display.*   
Aziraphale felt his wings arch in response to the display, making the angel equivalent of the middle finger. “Righteous Judgement.” 

*All eight splayed out behind him, giving him the appearance of a pissy albino peacock. 

“Righteous Judgement?” Gabriel guffawed. “There is nothing righteous in …” he paused grimacing at the mess by his feet.  
“Cutting down two archangels in cold blood!” Micheal cried out, their voice booming loud enough to rattle the shattered glass littering the floor.   
“There was nothing righteous in murdering a demon with holy water!” Aziraphale shouted back. Both archangels appeared shocked.   
“So you remember.” Gabriel said darkly.  
“Yes.” Aziraphale flexed his fingers on the hilt of his sword.   
“You’re going to die for the crimes you have committed today, Aziraphale.” Michael had lightning arching off of them, their vessel struggling to contain their true form.  
“Could have saved yourself the trouble if you had done it earlier,” Aziraphale snarked, flicking his wings back. Gabriel sneered.   
“I have to agree with you on that.”   
Gabriel’s gaze moved to Aziraphale’s wings, following their movement. His brows furrowed. “Don’t think that if you survive this you’ll be spared. Even falling won’t even save you.”*  
“Enough. Retribution is at hand.” boomed Michael. Their wings flared out, and they pointed their great-sword at Aziraphale.   
“Yes it is,” Aziraphale agreed, and lunged forward his sword flashing brightly.

*Aziraphale flinched at the mention of falling.

Aziraphale knew he might not survive the fight against two archangels, but he held his own and came close to taking both of them down. That was until Gabriel had the sense to blow on that stupid trumpet of his, signaling reinforcements to come to his aide. At least he managed to incapacitate Gabriel enough to fight Micheal one on one. Aziraphale, in an act of savagery, ripped a few of Micheal’s wings out, causing them to scream loud enough to make his ears bleed, and while they writhed on the floor he snagged their dropped great-sword and brought it down their middle, cutting them in half. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if that had killed Micheal, but at the very least they would be disoriented from the discorporating, and would temporarily be out of the fight. 

Aziraphale carefully made his way around the building, ducking behind corners any time he heard the shuffle of feet or the hushed voices of angels looking for him. He grimaced and tried not to hiss in pain. Gabriel had managed to get a few good swipes in before he had pinned him to the floor with his flaming sword dangerously close to his neck. Aziraphale looked at the sword in question. It was no longer flaming as he was trying to not get caught.  
Something on the floor caught his eye. He squinted at what had caught his attention and sucked in a breath. Blood. That couldn’t be right, angels didn’t have blood, per se. Instead they had golden heavenly ichor pumping through them. 

Aziraphale knelt down, giving a quick glance around to make sure it was safe to do so, and swiped a finger through the liquid. He rubbed the liquid between his fingers and found it to be sticky like blood. Ichor was a different texture altogether. He noted the color was closer to a dark copper than a bright red. 

Aziraphale glanced back at the drops of blood and paled. There was a trail of it leading to the stairwell he just exited out of. “Shit.” he swore venomously. He stood quickly and looked over himself for what had been dripping off him, and froze as he looked at his wings. There in the place of two white, often ungroomed, wings were a pair of bright blood red wings. The red was streaky and looked like someone had gotten too excited with red paint on a blank canvas. Dripping off the right wing was that same coppery liquid. That was the wing Gabriel had managed to tear into before Aziraphale pinned him.   
He decided he could worry about the color of his wings later: right now he needed to put them away and prevent a further trail from being made. With a deep breath he tucked his wings away. Or tried to. Aziraphale swore again for the fourth time in his existence, as his wings refused to fold back into the ethereal plane. They felt like they had been set on fire. He shivered in pain as he tried again and nearly cried out at how painful it was.   
“What is happening,” Aziraphale whispered, leaning on the wall for support and continued moving. Even if he was leaving a trail, it would still take time for the others to follow it, assuming they followed it in the correct direction. 

Aziraphale wasn’t sure where he was going. He backtracked a few times in the hopes that it would buy him more time. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he was found. He had to be in an older part of the building. The floors and walls weren’t as ‘shiny’, and the halls felt familiar, like how a path feels familiar even though the local wildlife has overtaken it.   
Aziraphale felt exhaustion creeping up on him. Maybe if he ducked in a room and hid, he could rest a bit and try to figure out what was going on with his wings. 

All the doors he tried were locked. He didn’t dare risk using a miracle to open them, just like he didn’t risk healing his wings. As soon as he did, Heaven was bound to pinpoint his location. 

Aziraphale could hear the faint sounds of running water. He cautiously followed the sound and found a pair of double doors that were open. Not wanting to risk springing a trap, he peered around the door closest to him and assessed the room. Just an empty room with a large, if plain fountain in the middle of it.

Aziraphale stumbled as he crossed the threshold of the room, the fountain sitting there unassumingly filling the silence with it’s burbling. ‘This is where,’ Aziraphale thought, tears welling up in his eyes.   
“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered and slowly made his way over to it. “Oh Crowley” Aziraphale choked out dropping his sword and kneeling before the fountain that had become the final resting place of what remained of the demon Crowley. 

Aziraphale cried before the fountain, kneeling down and gripping the sides, not caring if anyone heard him anymore.   
“Forgive me Crowley, I couldn’t keep my promise.” he sobbed “You must have known I couldn’t.”   
He gazed over the fountain’s edge and peered at his reflection. He blinked once, twice, and shuddered at himself. Looking back at him was an angel with blood red wings and blue slitted eyes that had blood pouring from them.   
He touched his cheek and found the same coppery liquid from before. The reflection frowned at him and the slitted pupils narrowed. He reached down to smack the reflective surface and to remove the blood from his fingers. 

Aziraphale cried out as he touched the water, it was as hot as hellfire!   
“But . . .” he whispered and turned his tearful gaze up “Why?”  
Suddenly he was afraid that he was falling. But he hadn’t taken a million light year freefall out of heaven. Perhaps he was falling in a different manner, a slower and more excruciating one.   
“I know your plans are ineffable, but why him? Aziraphale questioned again, anger rising in his chest. “Why me? WHY US?!”   
Aziraphale screamed, blood pouring from his eyes as he wept. He heard running feet approaching from the hall, and snapped his fingers the door slamming shut as an angelic head peered through it. He could hear muffled shouts of “In here!” “Open this door!” “Give it up Aziraphale!” He knew that last voice was Gabriel.

Aziraphale knew they would kill him the second they got into the room. He’d be damned (or blessed) if he gave any angel in Heaven the satisfaction of dying on their blade. He could fall on his own sword, it might not kill him instantly but he’d be too far gone to be healed.   
Aziraphale reached for his sword and found it was gone. He glared upward like it was Her fault he could no longer summon it. How was he supposed to get out of this without letting Heaven get its revenge.   
The fountain burbled as if to answer his question. Aziraphale glanced back at the door, then at the fountain again. Better than seeing Gabriel’s smug face before kicking it.  
Aziraphale climbed into the fountain and ignored the holy water as it blistered and boiled away his flesh. He could feel the hungry pull of the water on what was left of his grace, how it stripped his vessel molecule by painful molecule. The water stained a bright glittering copper as his tainted heavenly ichor bled into it. He sat down in the water and leaned back against the centerpiece hissing as more water splashed upon him. He warily watched the doors as the angels on the other side pounded on it. He doubted he could keep the door closed for much longer with his power fading like it was.

“You know . . .” Aziraphale began, pausing as he gritted his teeth in pain “If I was given another go at this, I think I’d choose him.” He slumped further into the coppery water.   
“I think . . . I loved him.” He coughed. “No. I did love him.”   
Glaring accusingly upward, he shouted.   
“In fact, I loved him more than crepes and fine wine and all the neat things humans came up! More than the humans and the stupid garden you made for them only to tossed them aside the second they disobeyed! More than the Earth and Heaven.”  
Aziraphale’s voice was growing quieter by the minute. “More than the nebulas, galaxies, and stars. More than the ones he helped make!”   
The doors to the room burst open and the angels poured in, Gabriel in the front of them all.   
“I love Crowley more than I love you! And I know he loves me more than you ever will!” Aziraphale screamed as loud as he was physically able (with a mostly dissolved body).

Astronomers, both professional and amateur, watched in fascination as the remaining star of Alpha Centauri wobbled, making its light flash and pulse as it rocked about in an unsteady orbit unsupported without it’s twin. They had been watching for months now, many astrologist gaining new insight on how gravitational fields of orbiting celestial bodies were affected when one just up and leaves. News channels far and wide reported the scientific communities fears and delights as they tried to explain the mystery of a disappearing star and why we could no longer see its distant light. Many were geared up, like they had been for the last few months, for another sleepless night of stargazing, keeping an eye out for a particular flickering one.

Gabriel froze as he heard the blasphemous confession of Aziraphale. Flushing with anger he opened his mouth to reprimand him for such blasphemy, but instead stared in shock his mouth hanging open. Lying in the fountain personally blessed by God herself, surrounded by glittering liquid copper that overflowed from the sides was Aziraphale.   
“How dare-“ Gabriel began angrily, stalking forward but stopped when a light, so bright it made even his eyes water, lit up behind the fountain   
“God?” he asked in an awed whisper. The light gently pulsed.   
“But …“ Gabriel said, the light pulsed again. Gabriel bowed in acknowledgement, message read loud and clear. ‘Do Not Interfere’.

Aziraphale lolled his head towards the commotion. He was having a hard time focusing, between the pain of his very essence being burned away and his actual eyes burning away too, he wasn’t sure he was at looking at Gabriel or a random angel, and it was rather bright in the room. It didn’t matter, he thought, he was almost dead.   
“I’m sorry I made you wait Crowley.” Aziraphale sighed, “Made you wait for an entire lifetime didn’t I? You’ll forgive me for that won’t you?”  
With a final breath, Aziraphale whispered “I love you Crowley.” his remnants sank beneath the water.

Gabriel didn’t approach the fountain. He watched as the Heavenly light of God surrounded it, and saw the blood red wings sink below the tainted waters.

God wept for her child.

Then with a final flicker, the second star of Alpha Centauri disappeared, its light gone as if it never existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how much do you hate me?   
I'll be honest I cried when I wrote this whole thing, both in pain and sadness. Didn't expect to write a nearly 9k fic lol  
Thanks again Ghost!  
Don't forget to leave a kudo or comment! Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudo, comment or both! Love you guys <3


End file.
